Dignified and Splendid
by J. Maria
Summary: Unconnected ficlets done during the month of August. Crosses include:Psych.
1. Blame It on the Heat Wave

Title: Blame It On the Heat Wave  
>Author: Jmaria<br>Rating: FR-15  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns BtVSAtS & Steve Franks owns Psych  
>Summary: August Fic-A-Day entries of insanity.<br>Challenge: #6471 August Fic-A-Day  
>AN: Now, I've been trying to plot up stuff for a week and a half, but when crunch time came my mind blanked entirely. I hate when that happens.

_Blame It On the Heat Wave_

"I don't think this is a good idea," Lorne sighed, crossing his arms as he watched the human man from across the way. "He doesn't really believe in psychics, even if he claims to be one."

"You wanted redemption," Aggie shrugged.

"I need to redeem my soul for what happened to Fred," Lorne said quietly.

"What needed to happen, happened, Lorne. There was no going back once events were put into motion."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he huffed.

"Didn't say you had to."

"And just how am I supposed to convince that man that I am a psychic demon from another dimension?"

"I'll leave the finer details to you."

"Thanks, puddin' pop."

"It ain't easy bein' green."

"I think that's my line."

Meanwhile, across the way, Shawn Spencer noticed the Bogart-esque man and the pretty woman with the café au lait complexion watching the Psych office. He was too busy noticing the strange couple that he missed Gus coming up behind him. Shawn jumped.

"Dude, don't do that!" Shawn glanced back at the empty space the couple had left. "Aw, now they're gone!"

"Who's gone, Shawn?"

"Boggie and the taller Halle Berry."

"You do know that there's not a damn thing wrong with Halle Berry. And that Bogart's dead, right?"

"Of course. Doesn't seem to be stopping Elvis's career."

"Who were they?"

"I'm not actually a psychic, Gus. I just play one on TV," Shawn rubbed the back of his neck. Something bad was coming. "I'm thinking a rival private detective based on that outfit. That or a teenage mutant ninja turtle."

"I don't think those exist."

"C'mon, only one of them was really an ROUS. And he was a wise old rat."

"He raised them with the sole purpose of slaughtering Shredder in the original comics."

"A man can change his stars."

"You're quoting _A Knight's Tale_."

"Your point?"


	2. How Does That Fit In Again?

Title: How Does That Fit In Again?  
>Author: Jmaria<br>Rating: FR-15  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<br>Summary: A witness to greatness, er, that doesn't make sense.  
>Words: 372<br>A/N: If it seems like it goes nowhere, that's probably because it doesn't. Random bit of weird that I can't make sense of.

_How Does That Fit In Again?_

"You know, I'm uncomfortable with your line of questioning," she said, leaning back against the sticky vinyl chair. It was too damn hot for this nonsense today.

"You're uncomfortable with my questioning what your connection to the assailant is?" Detective Carlton Lassiter glowered at her.

"It's a private connection. And you are hella rude."

"Oh, for the love of God, she said 'hella'! Didn't we ban her from ever using that word again?"

"You're trying to catch a cloud and pin in down, Dawn. That doesn't rein our fireball in. It just makes cotton candy."

Lassiter practically growled at the chatting trio in the corner. The brunette in the chair looked equally annoyed, which only really improved his mood.

"That's from _The Sound of Music_, Shawn."

"And I'm pretty sure clouds have nothing to do with making cotton candy."

"What?" Shawn Spencer, psychic detective rolled his eyes and leaned over the desk to face them. "Is it really necessary for you to harass my poor, poor intern Lassy?"

"I'm not your intern, bonehead," she snorted, ignoring the psychic. "Connor wasn't the assailant, so I don't see why you need to question me on why I was innocently standing on the corner."

"Lassy found you trolling the _corner_. And why were you with Connor, Kit?" Dawn Summers frowned. "Did they ask you -"

"Zip it," Kit snapped.

"No, do go on Miss Summers," Lassiter smirked at her.

"I was refering to Connor's dad asking Kit to show Connor around Santa Barbara while he's on break from Stanford. Don't be so paranoid."

"It's his middle name, much like mine in is Blaine."

"That's not a name, it's a major appliance," Dawn rolled her eyes at him.

"As I was saying before these two started riffing on _Pretty In Pink_, Connor has only been here for less than six hours. You can't link him to the three attacks this week."

"Two attacks and one fatality," Lassiter added. "All carried out by a lanky, androgynous male in his mid-twenties."

"So, you'd be looking for half of the male population that fits in the age range of 18 to 30," Kit snarked.

"I like her. Can we keep her?" Shawn grinned.

"No, because I'm not a puppy."


End file.
